“T’anks,” he said.
“What’s that rope for?” asked Ned, as he noticed one in a corner of his room.
“Fire escape. New law. All rooms has to have ’em,” the boy replied. “If the shebang goes up you drop the rope out of the window and slide down. Your window’s right over the back yard and there’s a gate that leads out into a side street.”
“Do they have many fires?” asked Ned, feeling a bit nervous.
“Many? Every day ten or a dozen.”
“I mean around here?”
“Ain’t had none since I worked here, but when this place goes it’ll go quick. It’s about a thousand years old, I guess.”
When the boy had gone Ned looked out of the window. It overlooked the rear yard of the hotel, a place filled with boxes, barrels and all sorts of rubbish. The rope was fastened to an iron ring in the wall, and looked stout enough to hold several men. It was long enough to reach to the ground, as Ned could see.
“Hope I don’t have to use it,” he thought.
Leaving his valise in his room, Ned went downstairs, again, the old elevator taking considerable time on the trip.